


there go all my defenses

by paddingtonfan69



Series: the horny teen cinematic universe [2]
Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, RuPaul's Drag Race References, Smut, also this one is a hard M folks buckle up, one instance of homophobic language, one instance of violence but honestly it's fun and righteous violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paddingtonfan69/pseuds/paddingtonfan69
Summary: “I don’t want to come over to your house,” April says into the phone, not bothering to try to keep the excitement out of her voice, “I want you to come over to mine. Where no one else will be there.”She hears a sharp breath, then athunkthrough the line that she's 95% sure is Sterling dropping her phone. April grins to herself until Sterling’s voice is back on the line.“Yeah, uh, yes, I would definitely like that, yes,” Sterling fumbles, sounding slightly out of breath and April has to sit down to manage the wave of affection that courses through her.--Or, these two gals try desperately to bone and end up accidentally having emotional growth along the way.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Series: the horny teen cinematic universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030080
Comments: 59
Kudos: 358





	there go all my defenses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to my fic "[ain't it shocking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974978)." It will make sense if you haven't read that one, but will probably work better ~thematically~ if you have.
> 
> The title should logically have been "what love can do," as a continuation but some days Dolly's "Here You Come Again" hits real good for these queer teens, so here we are!! Enjoy!!

April is used to an empty house.

It’s a byproduct of being told since she was five that she is mature for her age. She used to take such pride in it; basking in the praise when she was at a ninth grade reading level in the fourth grade, developing a frankly quite accurate sense of superiority over her peers.

Starting at age 12 though, a downside of maturity sunk in, and she was deemed responsible enough to get left alone. Daddy had business trips and golf with the fellas and probably helpless women to assault, and Mom was always off with the girls from the club or to find the perfect ingredients for a peach pie, leaving April by herself, a loneliness creeping in her that she couldn’t quite name.

“I’m having a girls trip this weekend,” her mom would say and April would nod and smile and be mature for her age, then sit at home read for two days and try not to miss something she couldn’t name.

Now, though, now it’s different.

“I’m having a girls trip this weekend,” her mom says when April comes home from school, “It’s been too long since I’ve done anything just for me. I really need this one, hun.”

“That sounds great,” April says, trying not to seem too excited, “you deserve a break.”

April doesn’t mention that in the couple weeks since the divorce, her mom has done nothing but go to the spa and the club and get day drunk with said girls, who are different girls than before, her fellow divorcees who got a significant settlement thus can afford to do nothing but drink mimosas and complain about their ex-husbands. April doesn’t really think that her father’s assault and battery is comparable to Mrs. Jones’ husband kissing the nanny, but whatever makes her mom happy.

And gets her out of the house.

"We're leaving for Nashville Friday afternoon, should be back Sunday night," her mom is saying.

"Sounds fun," April says absently, mind already whirring. She gives her mom one last smile, a perfect feminine heterosexual smile, before excusing herself to her room. She takes a deep breath, tries to count to thirty, gives up at seventeen, and calls Sterling.

“My mother is going out of town this weekend,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

“Okayyy,” Sterling says, drawing out the word. April imagines her sitting at her desk in her room, one perfect leg crossed over the other, finger twirling through her hair, “so do you want to come over?”

“Sterling-”

April loves the Wesley house, she really does, it’s become a haven these past few weeks, the way that Mr. Wesley ( _Anderson_ , he’d insisted) claps her shoulder when he passes behind her; the way that Mrs. Wesley (who doesn’t insist on being called by her first name; April thinks she likes being reminded that she’s Sterling’s mom) will sometimes stare at her and Sterling when she thinks neither of them are looking, like she knows exactly what is going on there. Well, hopefully not exactly, April isn’t sure she can handle that embarrassment.

But this weekend, the Wesley house isn’t in her plans.

“I don’t want to come over to your house,” April says into the phone, not bothering to try to keep the excitement out of her voice, “I want you to come over to mine. Where no one else will be there.”

She hears a sharp breath, then a _thunk_ through the line that she's 95% sure is Sterling dropping her phone. April grins to herself until Sterling’s voice is back on the line.

“Yeah, uh, yes, I would definitely like that, yes,” Sterling fumbles, sounding slightly out of breath and April has to sit down to manage the wave of affection that courses through her.

“Great,” she says, smiling like an idiot, “this weekend then.”

“This weekend, then,” Sterling repeats in a whisper.

It’s not as if they haven’t had sex. Well, kind of. April’s done a lot - _a lot_ \- of reading about what really qualifies as lesbian sex and after quickly scrolling past anything written by a man, had got a lot of academic writing about social constructions and the definition changing based on the person, and how any intimate acts free from the patriarchy is its own form of rebellion. Which is all well and good, April is a massive proponent of intimate acts free from the patriarchy, but it doesn’t exactly answer the question.

For example, during lunch on Tuesday, she had pulled Sterling into a of a supply closet, kissing her until Sterling was gasping her name.

“Don’t make the obvious joke here,” she had said and Sterling had made it anyway and then had both laughed and laughed until April put her hand up Sterling’s skirt.

Which has been awe inspiring in a way that April had never felt before, the way that Sterling’s breath had caught before April had even touched her, the way that Sterling had held her and whispered _please_ into her ear, which made April’s legs shake, until she finally did touch her. And then - well, April’s pretty sure she’s had sex by this point.

But still, there’s something about the idea of an empty house, about a place that’s not backseats and closets and Sterling’s bedroom before her parents coincidentally check on them every 20 minutes (not that April needs 20 minutes when Sterling is so _responsive_ , but still.)

The thought of having Sterling to herself for longer than a stolen hour - a whole day, a whole night - together with nowhere to go, sends a thrill up her spine. She goes to the bathroom and drinks a large glass of water, checks her pulse until it evens out, and catches herself in the mirror. Her reflection is smiling bigger than it ever used to. 

On Friday morning, she says a quick goodbye to her mother before sitting in her car and grinning wildly, unable to stop. There’s an energy under the tips of her fingers that she can’t quell no matter how many breathing exercises she does on the way to school.

“You look… chipper today,” Ezekiel says astutely on the way to first period.

“Well it’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

He raises an eyebrow. April wonders. They’ve had an understanding for years, neither of them pressing each other about boys or girls they are supposed to be interested in. And now, well, now April knows the way she scans the hall for Sterling, knows the way she smiles more than she ever did before two weeks ago. And Ezekiel has always had such a knowing way of watching her.

But he just says, “sure, Jan,” and keeps moving. 

April breathes out a little sigh, but then she can't help herself from grinning as two voices loudly carry down the hallway.

“I just don’t think it’s fair!”

“You don’t think it’s fair that Dad got a new job?”

“I don’t think it’s fair that even though he is home way less, he still makes us wait to watch _Drag Race_ with him?”

“It’s sweet!”

“Yeah, yeah, family bonding, I get it, but we’ve watched, like, two episodes in two weeks, I’m having withdrawals.”

Ezekiel follows April’s gaze to where the Wesleys have rounded the corner and he smirks at her.

“Who would have thought?” he mutters.

April stiffens. “Who would have thought what?

“That Blair Wesley is cultured enough for _Drag Race_ ,” he says smoothly.

April lets out a breath, unsure if she’s grateful or disappointed. She doesn't have time to dwell on it though; just as their duo is about to cross paths with Sterling and Blair, someone’s shoulder collides with Ezekiel’s chest, knocking him to the floor. April turns, immediately on the defensive, to see Adam Michaelson, one of Willingham’s premiere idiots, turn around and grin at them.

“Watch where you’re going, faggot,” he says with a laugh.

April doesn't think. If she had thought, maybe she would have considered that Adam Michaelson is a foot and a half taller than her, a hundred pounds heavier, and is literally a linebacker. But she doesn’t think. The simmering excitement she’s felt for days about what the weekend holds transforms into a single point of rage, and before anyone can blink, she grabs Adam Michaelson by the tie. Not the long end of the tie, the short end, so when she pulls it, it tightens, making him choke, pasty hand going to his pasty throat.

“Don’t fucking talk to him,” April hisses, “don’t touch him again. People like you deserve to rot.”

Adam sputters, unable to talk, face getting redder and redder. April thinks back to fifteen days ago, sitting at the witness stand, watching her father’s face angrily flush as she calmly and collectedly detailed every one of his sins. April watched as it dawned on him that he was going to lose. The same sense of satisfaction that she had felt that day settles in her veins as Adam Michaelson tries to choke out words.

Absently she’s aware of people yelling, then of hands pulling on her shoulders until she has no choice but to release Adam’s tie. He reels back, leaning over to catch his breath and April smiles, despite being held back by someone who she’s pretty sure is Mr. Wilkins.

She tries to tune back into her surroundings, eyes focusing on how Ezekiel has stood up, staring at her with an indecipherable look on his face. She sees Sterling standing beside him, staring at April with a much more decipherable look in her face, the same look she had when April had dragged her into that closet.

April, unfortunately, doesn’t have time to focus on Sterling, as Adam has caught his breath. He glares at April. April glares back, with a sense of relief that he’s focusing on her instead of Ezekiel.

“What the fuck,” Adam pants. April grins.

“Language,” Mr. Wilkins says, hand still holding April back. April rolls her eyes. With how much they all pay for tuition, the faculty here should maybe try to do something at least adjacent to their jobs. “Now, can anyone tell me what happened here?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Adam says, standing up to his full height, pointing at April, “this bitch started strangling me.”

“Language,” Mr. Wilkins repeats uselessly.

Adam ignores him, turning to April, chest heaving with anger. April knows that she should logically be scared, but she just stares back at him, unmoving.

“Just because,” he starts, a maliciousness coming through that shocks even April, “the only guy who willingly would spend time with a stuck up bitch like you is a this little fa-”

And then Blair Wesley punches him in face.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” April says to Blair as they wait outside the principal’s office, backs up against the hard wall.

“How to what, punch someone?”

April nods. Blair’s eyebrows raise, then she shrugs.

“It’s all about the twist, like you don’t want to just slam your fist in, you twist your wrist. And make sure your thumb is on the outside of your fist, like this.”

Blair demonstrates, punching the air in front of her. April watches the twist carefully, committing the technique to memory, and notices the way Blair’s knuckles still have some of Adam’s blood on it.

“Why did you do it?” April asks quietly.

Blair flexes out her hand, before putting it back in her lap. She shrugs one of her shoulders.

“Adam Michaelson’s always been a dick,” she says, pretending to be casual about it, “in the eighth grade he used to call me ‘the ugly twin’ and Sterl ‘the hot twin.”

April turns her mouth down in disgust. “I’m glad you punched him, then.”

Blair grins. “I’m glad you choked him.”

“Me too.” April pauses, weighs her options. It’s not like she and Blair are close, she knows that Blair actively disliked her until about a month ago, but things have seemed tentatively okay ever since April has been with Sterling this time around. So, she ventures, “I really appreciate it. On behalf of Ezekiel. And myself, as well, you didn’t have to-”

“I kind of did though.” Blair looks down at her hands. “The things he was saying about Ezekiel, about both of you, it could have been - if he found out about you and Sterl-”

April scoffs. “If he found out about me and Sterl, he would just be jealous that I got with 'the hot twin.'”

At this, Blair throws her head back and laughs, which is honestly extremely validating. She hits April’s arm lightly with her bloody knuckles.

“You’re so biased.”

April shrugs, trying not to smile. “Can’t argue with that.”

Blair tilts her head, says a simple, “huh.”

“What?”

“You have a Sterling face.”

“I have a what?”

“I always give Sterl shit for the sappy face she makes when she’s talking about you. And I guess you have one too.”

April tries to pretend that fact doesn’t make her cheeks warm a bit as she smiles. She’s sure she’s making that face right now, and can’t even pretend otherwise. She tries to think of something clever to say in response when the door swings open and Ezekiel comes out of the principal’s office.

“Blair, your turn to be subjugated," he says with a tight smile.

Blair nods, and gets up, game face on.

“Good luck,” April offers.

“Thanks,” Blair says with a genuine smile.

Once she leaves, Ezekiel tentatively sits in her place.

“Are you and Blair... friends?”

It’s not what April suspected him to ask, but he’s looking at her with genuine curiosity, something unreadable underneath. April wonders if he’s still shaken from what happened in the hallway, wonders if she crossed some line of their unspoken pact. But April has taken great joy in crossing lines recently, so she takes a deep breath.

“Well,” she says, casting a quick glance around the hall, “I suppose I’m trying to be friends with Blair- ” she pauses, 50 percent for dramatic effect, and 50 percent due to nerves, “-given that I’m currently having a torrid affair with her sister.”

Her heart slams in her chest as she watches Ezekiel for his reaction. He looks at her to see if she’s serious and she gives a little nod. Ezekiel presses his hand over his chest, eyes widening as his mouth falls open, before gripping her hand tightly. They stay like that for a few minutes, April forcing herself to breathe evenly as Ezekiel just stares at her, continues to clasp her hand.

Finally, he smiles so wide it changes his entire face. April feels herself smiling back, a tension that she didn’t even know she had leaving her body.

“It does make sense,” he says, grinning wickedly, “given that-” he air quotes “'-the only guy who would spend time with a stuck up bitch like you is-', well, me.”

April chokes, coughing until it becomes laughing. And then she can’t stop, suddenly everything seems so funny; the fact that she, the person with the highest grades in Willingham’s junior class, is about to be disciplined for choking someone with his own tie; the fact that Adam Michaelson implied that she cares about _men_ being interested her; the way that she was nervous to come out to _Ezekiel_ of all people.

Finally, she wipes her eyes, gets her breath back. “Sorry,” she says, “it’s just…”

“I get it,” he says, softer than he normally is, “trust me, I get it.”

He squeezes her hand. It’s probably more physical affection than they’ve had in six years of friendship, but it feels calming, centering.

“So you’re not mad?” She asks, “about me, um…?”

Ezekiel laughs. “-defending my honor? Cutting off the oxygen supply of a human Breitbart comment? Successfully taking attention off of me? I think you’re good.”

April smiles, nudges his shoulder. “Well, I do historically love attention.”

“Enough to… tell people?”

April takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I think so. Yes. Not today or anything, but do I want to. Now that… now that my dad’s not around anymore. We’ve been talking about it, Sterling and I, and, well, I suppose it’s moved on to a matter of when rather than if.”

“Oh,” Ezekiel says, offering her a genuine but slightly pained smile, “I guess it’s easier when you have someone else.”

Something in April’s heart clenches at that. She squeezes his hand, feeling her throat tighten with the threat of tears; at the way always collected Ezekiel lets this one hint of sadness through; but also, selfishly, at the unbelievable truth that she now does have someone else in her corner; that something she thought she would have to do alone several years down the line could maybe happen now, alongside another person.

“Yeah, it is,” she manages, “but, well, you know you have me, right?”

“After today’s display of violence, I think I got the message.”

April relaxes a little, and they smile at each other for a minute, only to have Blair burst out of the office, proudly holding a detention slip.

“Give ‘em hell, Stevens.”

“Not ideal phrasing,” April says, standing. She can still annoyingly hear emotion in her voice.

So, apparently, can Ezekiel, because as she goes to walk into the principal’s office, he grabs her wrist and whispers, “use it.”

So she does.

It’s shockingly easy to burst into tears as soon as she gets into Principal Kenny’s office, to talk about how hard adjusting to adjust since the _d-divorce_ (she chokes on the word in a very Christian way), begging him to please not call her mom, she’s been through so much, April doesn’t want to add it it.

“I won’t do anything like that again,” she finishes, “I promise I am still just trying to be a good child of The Lord. Considering… considering He is the only father I have left, really.”

Principal Kenny hands her some tissues.

By the time she leaves the office, she’s actively holding back a grin, and doesn’t let it fly until she shuts the door behind her, letting out a long breath.

“How’d it go?”

April looks to see Blair and Ezekiel, still sitting outside the office.

“You waited?” As soon as she says it, she thinks it sounds weak and needy, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Any excuse to get out of class,” Blair says brightly.

“And I couldn’t miss Blair’s barbaric opinions on _Drag Race,_ ” Ezekiel says with a sly grin.

“Barbaric? All I said was that I don’t really _get_ Detox.”

“She is fashion. Just because you have no taste.”

Blair scoffs. “Whatever.”

April absolutely cannot follow, but she also absolutely cannot stop smiling at the two of them. It’s weird.

“Shouldn’t we get to class?” she asks.

Blair laughs. “Good to know that even with the choking and the detention, you’re still a goody-two-shoes.”

April raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t get detention.”

Blair opens her mouth and sputters wordlessly. April grins, shrugs a shoulder.

“Principal Kenny was very understanding about my… family situation. Got a light warning.”

“Well done,” Ezekiel says with a grin.

“So I’m going to have to be in detention alone?” Blair says, like it’s the worst punishment imaginable.

April and Ezekiel are still laughing by the time they get to Bible class, and Blair heartily gives them the finger before heading off to Algebra II, but April is pretty sure she’s laughing too.

When April pushes the classroom door open, it's almost comical how everyone quiets within a second. April’s eyes immediately focus in on Sterling, whose face splits open into a grin when she sees her, sitting up straighter, leaning forward in her seat. It makes April smile back instantly, makes her heart beat louder in her chest.

Ezekiel gives her a little nudge. Right. She tears her eyes from Sterling (who now has the audacity to bite her lip, _come on_ ), and turns to Ellen.

“Why don’t y’all two take a seat,” she says kindly, with such concern painted on her face that April is torn between rolling her eyes and feeling slightly touched. She settles for a little of both.

The class doesn’t stop looking at her. April thinks about over six months ago now, after her dad first got arrested, when the idea of people staring at her like this made her skin crawl. But now she basks in it, grinning as she slides in next to Sterling. She even flips her hair a little, casually making sure her leg presses against Sterlings under the desk, reveling in the way Sterling gasps a little.

Ellen starts talking again about God knows what. Noah, she thinks, but April can’t even pretend to pay attention. Not when Sterling’s hand settles on her thigh, triggering a rush that has been building in her all day. It still could pass for innocent, Sterling's thumb grazing the outer seam of her pants. It technically shouldn’t do anything to her. But it does.

The reminder of having the house to herself this weekend jolts into her, and suddenly she doesn’t quite care about random acts of violence in hallways. She hooks her foot around Sterling’s ankle under the desk. Sterling lets out a breath and reaches for her pencil.

 _You’re killing me here_ , she writes.

April grins, grabs her own notebook.

_The feeling is mutual._

_Is it messed up that you choking Adam Michaelson with his tie really did it for me?_

_Well, I have certain biases, but I don’t think it’s messed up. You’re attracted to powerful women. Me specifically. And that was a display of power. From me specifically. So. Logically._

_Omg, you’re so full of yourself._

_You love it._

_Whatever._

But she’s smiling up at April, her thumb still stroking circles on April’s pants and April clenches her pencil. Sterling nudges her foot again, then writes:

_I know we only get five minutes between classes..._

_I can do a lot in five minutes. I’m very efficient._

Sterling coughs, just loud enough for people to notice.

“Something to contribute, Sterling?” Ellen asks.

“Efficiency,” Sterling blurts, “do we ever think that God chose Noah for the arc because he was an efficient… craftsman more than for any more spiritual reason? Just- just some food for thought.”

“Just some food for thought?” April teases after the bell rings and she can’t be heard over the rush of students in the hallway.

Sterling glares at her before quickly ducking into the bathroom. April follows, grinning. No one else is in the bathroom, except a couple of freshmen chatting by the sink. Sterling takes them in before putting a hand over her mouth and widening her eyes.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” she gasps, before dramatically throwing herself into a stall.

April tries very hard not to laugh as the freshmen make various faces of disgust before scurrying out of the bathroom. April grins, taps her knuckles lightly on the stall door.

Sterling opens it with a huge smile on her face.

“I feel like my acting is honestly getting to the next level,” she says proudly.

April kisses her. Because she simply has to. Sterling lets out a surprised little gasp and then her hands are pulling April into the stall by the collar. April locks the door behind them before twisting them so she has Sterling’s back against it.

She kisses her again, pressing her hand along the smooth skin behind Sterling’s neck, takes Sterling’s lower lip into her mouth with her teeth and runs her tongue over the length of it.

“Fuck,” Sterling says, fist clenching the fabric of April’s shirt, and _God_ , April loves this. She loves every little part of this, every time Sterling exhales, every word she says, every movement of her body that shows April just how much Sterling loves this too.

She moves to kiss the underside of Sterling’s jaw, the hollow of her neck, unbuttoning the top two buttons so she can lick the dip of Sterling’s collar bone.

“April,” Sterling gasps, and the sound of her own name sends a shiver through April’s entire body, “the things you do to me.”

“Just you wait,” April murmurs.

Then the late bell rings.

It’s not as if some light making out (okay, heavy making out) could make April forget that she started her day with a small act of violence, but people are still staring at her either in fear or in awe, she’s not quite sure. She wasn’t quite expecting how good it would feel, how nearly choking a homophobe could result in this sort of infamy for the day.

“Have people been staring at you all day too?” she asks Blair as they pack up their bags after English.

“Yeah, it’s fucking sick, dude,” Blair says, “finally people are acknowledging that I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

April scoffs a little, but there’s no malice in it.

Blair grins. “I’m serious. I’ve taken out actual criminals, it’s time to put some respect on the name.”

“Sure,” April says sarcastically before remembering that Blair _has_ taken out actual criminals, that one of those criminals was her _father_ , and then she can’t help herself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. She spent months cursing the Wesley name but now her and Blair are bonding over shared violence. And Blair isn’t even her preferred Wesley.

“Are you okay?” Blair asks.

April nods, still giggling a little.

“Weirdo,” Blair says, in a way that’s oddly affectionate. “Hey, tonight the fam is finally all going to be in the same place to watch the next episode of _Drag Race_ if you wanna join.”

April blinks. “Really?”

She looks toward the front of the classroom where Sterling is talking to Mr. Wilkins about her essay.

“She didn’t make me ask you,” Blair clarifies.

“She didn’t?”

“Nah, but I know she wants you there so…” Blair shrugs, before whipping her bag over her shoulder.

“Oh.” April looks down at her feet. “Thank you.”

“Whatever, it’s the least I can do.” She puts her hand on April’s shoulder, gaze suddenly very intense when April meets it. “After today, though, you’ve seen how I can physically harm someone. So don’t fuck it up.”

April nods. “I won’t,” she says, meaning it.

Blair smiles. “Great! Sterl would never forgive me if I wrecked your face.”

April grins in spite of herself. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

April has never been one to look at the clock on the wall, waiting for the bell to ring like teenagers in movies who have no respect for academia. But today, she can’t help but leap up out of her seat when the it sounds, efficiently packing up her belongings and heading out of the building swiftly.

Her hurriedness is worth it; when she walks out into the parking lot after school, she’s greeted with the sight of Sterling sitting on the hood of April’s car, legs crossed at the knees. She’s wearing high socks with her Willingham skirt, so there’s just a few inches of skin exposed on her leg, but it’s enough.

“So I heard through the grapevine that your sister has detention,” April says as she approaches.

Sterling grins, hops off the car. “You know that grapevine, gotta love her.”

“So, by that logic, you have some time to kill.”

Sterling gleefully nods. “Great logic.”

“You simply have to love useless punishment for delinquent students, don’t you?”

“Sure do.”

April drives them to a spot they’d discovered last week - an abandoned parking lot ten minutes for what used to be an Arby’s, but it does the trick - while Sterling takes control of the music.

“Is this all Dolly Parton?” April asks as she turns into the lot.

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with Dolly,” Sterling says, very seriously, “because she’s literally perfect. Everything I find out about her makes me love her more, so if you have a problem with Dolly, you have a problem with me.”

“I’m a white woman from the South. I’m pretty sure we are genetically predisposed to love Dolly Parton,” April says, trying not to show how charmed she is by this whole thing. Sterling emphatically declaring her love of Dolly Parton shouldn’t make April’s heart flip in her chest the way it does, shouldn't make her smile so big, yet here she is.

“Oh thank God,” Sterling says, leaning back in her seat a little, “because she’s, like maybe my favorite person. Besides Blair of course. And my parents. And you.”

April brakes very suddenly. Luckily, she just pulled into the parking spot, because she’s not sure if she can be trusted to operate a motor vehicle right now.

“Me?” she asks shakily, “I made the list?”

Sterling grins at her, face a little flushed. “Well, yeah,” she says, like it’s obvious.

“I beat Dolly? She has Awards. Several Grammys. Not to mention her humanitarian work. I’m just -”

Sterling unbuckles her seatbelt, leans over and unbuckles April’s, then lightly kisses her on the cheek.

“April,” she says, far too softly for April’s emotional state at the moment, “some things are better than a bunch of Grammys.” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind April’s ear. “Better than even Dolly Parton, but don’t go spreading that around, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“As Dolly’s number one fan?”

“Duh,” Sterling says, grinning.

Something in April relaxes a little, enough for her to say, “I suppose I just didn’t think two weeks of hooking up in cars would rank me above America’s most beloved songwriter.”

She’s going for joking, but something in it must land wrong, because Sterling pulls her hand back from April’s cheek and her face grows uncertain. She twists her hands in her lap, not looking up at April.

“We’re not,” she starts before clearing her throat, “we’re not _just_ hooking up, are we?”

And April wants to laugh. She’s smart enough to read the room (well, car) and knows that laughing would not be appropriate, but the idea that Sterling would even ask that, after everything they’ve gone through, is one of the most absurd things she’s ever heard.

“No,” she says softly, “I don’t think there is a world where we can be just anything.”

She reaches her hand over the console to hold Sterling’s, running her thumb over her knuckles.

“Yeah?” Sterling asks, finally looking up at April, eyes wide and disbelieving and so so beautiful that April can’t breath for a minute.

They just stare at each other for a minute, until the song changes and a lively piano wafts over the speakers.

_Here you come again, just when I’ve begun to get myself together_

“Dolly says it best,” April says, a small laugh failing to cover how her voice catches. Sterling’s hand squeezes hers gently and it’s enough to inject the extra push of courage she needs to say, “Sterling, I - the words I would use to describe my feelings for you would be far too intense and all-consuming for what has only been two weeks of - more than just hooking up to be sure, but some things almost defy categorization-”

Sterling leans in and kisses her. It’s brief, too brief, but it makes something in April unclench.

“Me too,” Sterling says.

“Good,” April says letting out a breath, “because I may have told Ezekiel about us today.”

Sterling’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit. How did he take it? I mean probably well because he’s, you know... not to make assumptions or anything, but the last time we had a one-on-one conversation was in the sixth grade when we were both distraught because Tyra took that season off from hosting _Top Model_ , so. Oh God, am I stereotyping?”

“Sterling.”

“Not the point, right. How’d he take it?”

April smiles. “Good. Really good. Great. Excellent.”

“Excellent,” Sterling repeats, beaming, “I love excellent.”

“Me too,” April says, and she feels lighter; somehow the act of telling someone that she told someone else that she was gay making a buzz flow beneath her skin. “If you couldn't tell, I’m feeling very bold today.”

“Oh I can tell and I love it,” Sterling says leaning closer, “I like, really love it.”

Then she’s kissing April, soft and sweet and teasing.

“You know, I figured that much,” April says, kissing Sterling a little less soft and a little less teasing, but just as sweet. Sterling’s hand is warm on her neck, thumb pressing the skin behind her ear, mouth open and wanting.

When Sterling pulls back a little, the late afternoon sun shines through the window and lights up her face, her hair, her mouth.

“You’re just unreasonably beautiful,” April breathes.

Sterling smiles wider, lets out a long breath.

“I wasn’t - I wanted-”

April raises an eyebrow.

“Tongue tied?”

“Shut up.” She takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to say that you don’t have to start telling people because of me. I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything, I actually talked about this a lot in therapy after last fall and I totally get that it’s not my call, and I don’t want to be the kind of person -”

“Sterling.” April puts two fingers on her mouth which is pretty effective at silencing her in more ways than one. “This isn’t - I want to. For me.”

“Promise?”

Sterling holds her pinky out, like they’re nine again. April remembers a friendship bracelet, a summer, a pinky promise of friends forever. Then, after, the twisted sting of betrayal.

But now, there’s something new, something akin to friendship, but brighter, making April the kind of person who notices sunlight in hair and falls asleep with her hand clutched on her phone, not wanting to stop talking even after her eyes close. Now, Sterling sits across from her in a car, smiling with what April is 90% sure is her “April face” on, the one that April knows is about to lead to a lot more contact than just their fingers. So April takes Sterling’s pinky, reveling in the warmth of it.

“Promise.”

April is smiling as leans forward to kiss Sterling. They’re still in an awkward position, Sterling twisting her body over the console to be close to April, and April craning her neck to meet her, pinkies still locked.

Suddenly, it’s not enough, the urge to be closer starting deep within April. She presses a hand against Sterling’s chest and pushes lightly, but firmly. It’s enough to make Sterling fall back against her seat, eyes wide in the way that April has grown to innately recognize over these past couple weeks. She has become extra cognizant of how her actions affect Sterling; how sometimes it seems like the smallest touch can make Sterling bend to her will. It’s intoxicating.

“Stay there,” she says.

Sterling nods, and April can see the movement in her throat as she swallows. April grins and climbs over the console with what she likes to think is as much grace as one can have in this situation.

Her knee bumps the gearshift and Sterling lets out a little giggle, but then April is situated in Sterling’s lap, knees bracketing Sterling’s thighs and Sterling isn’t laughing anymore. Her eyes stare up at April and April wonders what she sees, what makes her look at April in this specific way, gentle and hungry at the same time.

“Sometimes I don’t think this is real,” April breathes before she can help herself.

Sterling’s eyes soften, hand immediately going to cup April’s face, so tenderly that April has to swallow, has to remember how to breathe.

“Sorry, that was stupid,” she mumbles.

“Not stupid!” Sterling says adamantly, “Trust me, you are so so many things but never stupid.”

“Maybe I am around you.”

Sterling lets out a little laugh. “I think I’ve literally fallen over like 50 percent of the times I see you, so I’m pretty sure I’m the stupid one in this relationship.”

April grins and Sterling’s thumb follows the curve of April’s smile.

“And,” she whispers, leaning closer so their foreheads almost touch, “this is very real.”

“Show me,” April whispers.

This time when they kiss, April isn’t even sure she knows where she is. All she knows is Sterling’s hand holding her jaw in place while her tongue slowly traces the corners of April’s mouth.

Her shirt had gotten untucked somewhere along the way and Sterling uses her spare hand to touch the patch of skin above April’s left hip, softly stroking her thumb over it in a way that absolutely should not affect her in the way it does.

She’s used to being on the other side of this; of reveling in how her own tiny touches can set Sterling off, but now, here, the warm spring sunlight filling the car, Sterling’s soft breath against her mouth, the way she can feel Sterling’s thighs beneath her own - she finds herself on the other end of the spectrum, just one second away from falling completely apart.

Her hand clasps the back of Sterling’s neck so she can kiss her harder, so Sterling’s mouth can muffle the deep sound she makes when Sterling's hand splays across the soft skin of her stomach, grazing over the waistline of her pants.

“Is this..?” Sterling starts, pulling back just enough to speak.

“Yes,” April says firmly, “absolutely.”

Sterling beams at her, out of breath and hair in disarray and April can’t help herself. She shifts closer on her lap and kisses her again, uncontrolled and messy. Sterling gasps, but her hand still manages to pop the button of April’s pants open.

It’s not as if it’s in any way surprising how much this wanting takes over her. That first time, she’d gotten home from Sterling’s house with her body tingling and taken a very very long shower, thinking of Sterling’s hands on all the places her own hands wandered. But whenever she’s found herself in a position with Sterling looking at her with such clear desire, she couldn’t help herself but to touch Sterling, to make her call out April’s name with a passion and affection that makes April feel invincible.

But now, with Sterling warm and solid beneath her, holding her in place, smiling into her mouth, April lets herself give in to the need to be touched.

Sterling’s hand slips beneath April’s pants and April sighs. Even just the light touch of Sterling’s fingers on the edge of her underwear has her in a place she’s never been, suddenly so desperate for the touch of skin on skin.

It’s an awkward angle a little bit, and April shifts her hips a little, trying to help. The movement makes Sterling’s finger press against her harder and April lets out a ragged breath against Sterling’s mouth.

“Fuck, _April_ ,” Sterling breathes.

And April is dangerously close to something here but she still manages to say, “yes, that’s the general idea.”

Sterling lets out a huff of laughter and April can feel it in her whole body, at every point they are touching.

“Sterling,” she growls, “I need you to touch me.”

It comes out a little more commanding than she intended, but by the way Sterling’s eyes grow darker and her breath quickens, it seems to have the desired effect. Especially when Sterling’s fingers slip beneath her underwear, touching April finally where April’s dreamed about for weeks (months, years.)

“Oh God,” she lets out, leaning her forehead against Sterling’s, “oh _God_.”

Sterling kisses her, wet and messy, moving her fingers against her and April is so overwhelmed in the best way possible, her hips moving along with Sterling’s hand, her mouth pressing uncoordinatedly against Sterling’s.

Sterling moves to kiss the side of April’s neck, tongue tracing down her jawline and April could scream. She presses her hips down harder on Sterling’s hand and does let out something akin to a scream when she feels one of Sterling’s fingers press inside of her.

“April, holy shit, you feel so good,” Sterling murmurs against her neck.

April can only respond in movements, in pressing herself even closer to Sterling, in her hands in Sterling’s hair, in letting her breath come out loud and uneven until she doesn’t recognize the sounds leaving her mouth.

“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Sterling whispers in her ear before biting the edge of it, “for months, April, I’ve wanted to touch you like this, wanted it more than anything.”

All April can say in response is another eloquent, “oh God,” as Sterling’s words hit her at the same time as Sterling’s fingers curl inside her and It’s all so much that all April can do is squeeze her eyes shut and let it wash over her.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, _Sterling_.”

Parts of it are what she expected, the burst of color behind her closed eyes, the way her body feels every second of contact on every inch of her skin. But other aspects are unexpected, the way that when she finally exhales, she almost collapses into Sterling, and the way Sterling’s other arm reaches out to hold her and even as she’s panting, coming down off the high of Sterling absolutely ruining her, she isn’t sure she’s ever felt more safe.

Sterling laughs a little, breath warm on April’s face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you take the Lord’s name in vain so many times.”

April laughs too, grinning down at Sterling.

“Well, maybe this is the closest I’ve come to a religious experience.”

Sterling beams. “Really? That’s - really?”

April just nods, too relaxed and warm to try to hide anything at this point.

“Wow,” Sterling breathes, “that’s crazy because I really wasn’t sure if I’d be any good because, like, you definitely set the bar super high and I wanted to live up to it, and my wrist was at some angles it had for sure never been in before and honestly at the end there, I was so into watching you that I don’t think I was my most coordinated, so-“

April kisses her, soft and light and she feels Sterling smile against her.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” April says.

“Wow, I must be really cute then, huh?”

“Yes.”

They just smile at each other for what is probably too long before Sterling’s eyes flick to the clock on the dashboard.

“Oh no, Blair’s gonna kill me.”

April follows her gaze before laughing a little.

“Oops.”

She leans down to kiss Sterling on more time, purposefully elongating it, letting her tongue dip between Sterling’s lips.

“This isn’t fair,” Sterling protests as they pull apart.

April grins, gracelessly climbing off of Sterling and back to the driver's seat.

“Alas," April says, "but we still have this weekend,”

Sterling smiles all too big at that information.

“We still have this weekend,” she repeats, “oh, and don’t forget _Drag Race_ tonight.”

April rolls her eyes. “How could I ever?”

“You are underestimating Aquaria!”

“And you are underestimating the power of a Southern queen!”

“Dad, we’ve been over this!”

“I’m just saying, it’s disrespectful to where you’re from to always root for the New York girls, when we got so much talent down here.”

April looks back and forth between Blair and Anderson as they continue to debate the geographical implications of different drag queens. Sterling is rolling her eyes while smiling fondly at the both of them. She catches April’s eyes and gives a sheepish sort of grin, shrugging as if to say “this is my weird little family.”

The combination of jealousy and warmth that stirs within April is enough to make her lose her breath for a second, but she catches it when Sterling leans a little closer to her. It’s in the guise of grabbing a chip from the coffee table, but by the way Sterling looks at April for the length of it, April knows the chip is merely a means to an end.

“Spoken very high and mighty for a young woman who spent her afternoon in detention,” Anderson is saying with a smug smile

“He got you there,” Sterling says, with a little laugh.

“It was detention for the right reasons,” Blair grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, “we talked about this.”

April is very curious as to what exactly that conversation is, one that led to neither of Blair’s parents being mad at her even after she fully decked a guy. April knows the Wesleys are more forgiving than her parents will ever be, but to what point? 

April doesn't have too much time to follow this train of thought, thankfully, as Mrs. Wesley settles on the other side of Sterling on the couch and presses play on the TV, which finally stops the debate between Blair and Anderson, as their eyes immediately flick to the screen. April still isn’t a hundred sure what happens in a given episode of _RuPaul’s Drag Race_ , even with the few she’s seen, but it’s definitely entertaining.

Even so, April watches the way this family watches television together more than the show itself. She can’t help but be fascinated by the innate closeness of their interactions; the way Sterling and Blair groan “ugh an acting challenge,” in unison, but stay glued to the screen the whole time. Or the way Anderson chuckles at every bad pun RuPaul makes, which makes Blair roll her eyes, but Mrs. Wesley smile softly at her husband. Or every time someone is even a bit mean, in the way that they always are in reality TV, Sterling frowns a little, like the audacity of cruelty is still beyond her, even after all she’s experienced, some of it at April’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Sterling whispers halfway through the episode.

April nods silently, still unused to Sterling’s perceptiveness; still unused to anyone noticing what _she’s_ thinking specifically. Sterling reaches over and takes her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles. It makes April smile a little, even as she catches Mrs. Wesley looking at their hands, then quickly looking away when she sees April watching her.

One of the drag queens this season is named Blair St. Clair, which all the other Wesleys find infinitely funny.

“I don’t hate other Blair or anything,” Blair grumbles, “I just wish she was like… cooler or something.”

“I think she’s sweet,” Mrs. Wesley says, “she calls her mother every day.”

“Mom, I love you, but I’m gonna need you to lower your expectations.”

“I absolutely will not.”

Drag Queen Blair starts talking about how she grew up in a very religious household, but her mom still supports her drag one hundred percent. April feels Sterling’s hand tighten around her own. Everyone watches a little too intently as another queen, who the screen tells April is named Dusty Ray Bottoms, talks about how her religious family never supported her drag.

“Now that’s just awful,” Anderson says softly, and April watches Sterling let out a little breath.

April hopes the show will move on from there; she’s had a long day, a long year, a long half-decade of constantly mulling over the reality of a certain kind of religious family not speaking to their offspring when they don’t fit into a neatly heterosexual box. Today has been a good day and tomorrow promises to be a better one; she doesn’t want to have to devote her mental energy to this right now.

But, of course, Dusty starts telling the story of his parents finding out he was gay, of calling in a fucking priest for an exorcism, about having to leave home after his parents almost sent him away and told him he could never be happy as a gay man.

April makes sure to control her breathing. She doesn't look at anyone else, she can’t, even though she’s aware that she’s probably cutting off Sterling’s circulation with her hand. She hears Sterling let out a shaky sob when Dusty talks about how he’s happy now, has a fiancé, in love and fully himself.

“I didn’t have to change or compromise for someone’s small minded views,” Dusty finally says in a teary talking head, and April wants to cry too, wants to scream at this conflict of feeling seen and not wanting to have to confront this right now, when she is in a house that is not her own, holding hands with a girl in front of her parents who haven’t even been told anything.

Mrs. Wesley pauses the TV, wipes her eye a little, and shifts on the couch so she can see both her daughters. April feels like she should leave; like she is intruding on an intimate family moment.

“I just want y’all to know,” Mrs. Wesley starts, “that if either of you girls are - well, your father and I love you no matter what.”

“Heck, I wish one of you were a drag queen,” Anderson says with a little laugh and a soft smile that makes something in April’s heart long for this specific kind of paternity she knows she’ll never have.

Blair and Sterling are looking at each other, like their eye contact can decide what Sterling is going to say in this moment. April just looks down. This is for Sterling to decide what she’s saying, how’s she’s saying it, if she’s even going to -

“I’m bisexual,” Sterling suddenly blurts out. April raises her eyebrows. That’s apparently how she’s saying it. Now Sterling is the one who is squeezing April’s hand hard, but April lets her, of course she lets her, how could she not? “I, um, know that a lot has happened over the last few months, but I just thought you should know.”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Wesley says with such affection that April can’t breathe, “come here.”

Immediately Sterling leans into her mom’s arms, dropping April’s hand to embrace her. Anderson is there in a flash, unabashedly sniffling has he hugs his wife and daughter.

“We love you so much,” he says into Sterling’s hair.

“I love you guys,” Sterling says, “no matter what.”

April watches, glued to her seat as Blair comes over to join the Wesley pile of emotions and is immediately sucked into it. April has to leave. She doesn’t - she shouldn’t be here for this. She isn’t someone who gets an open and accepting after school special of a coming out. She swallows something in her throat and quickly and silently gets up off the couch and heads for the door.

She makes it onto the front steps before she has to sit down again. Her breath comes out in short bursts until she’s sobbing, embarrassingly loud gasps, with her head in her hands. She’s knows she’s a terrible person at this point, unable to witness the girl she’s pretty sure she’s in love with have the touching and wonderful moment with her family that she deserves, without having her own emotional breakdown.

She knows that the only reason Sterling didn’t invite April into the whole thing is because Sterling doesn’t want her parents to know anything about April until April herself says it. It makes April all the more in awe of Sterling, but still, she wishes she could control how much that living room made her feel like an outsider.

Her breathing finally evens out and she lifts her head up and wipes her eyes. Then, almost on instinct, she pulls her phone out from her back pocket. She searches her messages until she finds a text from Sterling from last week, with a name and phone number on it. She takes a deep breath in and calls the number.

She gets an out of office voicemail, because of course she does, it’s 8pm on a Friday. April clears her throat and lets her church/court/debate voice come out of her.

“Hello. My name is April Stevens, I’m calling to set up an appointment with Dr. Hernandez. My - my girlfriend sees Dr. Molly Davis, who recommended Dr. Hernandez as someone who I would work well with. I would love to set something up as soon as possible, thank you so much.”

Her hand shakes a little bit as she leaves her contact information, but she stills it once she hangs up. She puts her phone back in her pocket and looks out at the dusky sky. It’s beautiful out tonight. April wonders if she should go back inside, or if the time has passed for that.

The door behind her creaks open and April braces herself. She doesn’t know if Sterling will be mad at her for just walking out of the room during her big moment, or if Sterling is coming with comfort and affection that part of April is still embarrassed to want so much.

But it’s not Sterling.

“Mind if I join you?” Mrs. Wesley asks.

April shakes her head wordlessly. Mrs. Wesley gives her a small smile and sits next to her on the step. For the decade April has known her, Mrs. Wesley has always created a perfect image of herself, but now April watches as her skirt picks up some dirt from the porch and her mascara is all smudged around her eyes.

“I’m sorry for running out of there,” April says after a few minutes, “I didn’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Wesley says, the term of endearment slipping so naturally from her lips, “don’t ever worry about intruding on us.”

April nods, trying not to cry again, trying not to ache for something this warm.

“You know,” Mrs. Wesley continues, “you used to be my favorite of Sterling’s friends when y’all were younger.”

“Really?”

“Oh, don’t _really_ me. You were the most polite little thing, so smart and mature for your age. Don’t tell her I told you this, but back then, Sterling would start asking for more books, because oh _April_ was reading that, she would tell a story at the dinner table of what April said today at recess, it was all April this, April that.”

April feels herself blush, smiles down at her hands.

“And even after y’all had that falling out, she still would talk about you almost every damn day, pardon my French. It was all, ‘can you believe April got a better score than me on her PSATs?’ ‘I don’t want that shirt, I saw April wearing it and I’m afraid I won’t look as good as her in it.’”

Mrs. Wesley laughs and April finds herself joining her, only stopping when she sees Mrs. Wesley tense up slightly. April has always been someone who carefully chooses her words, so it’s easy to recognize the same thing in Mrs. Wesley as she looks down at her hands for a moment.

“So I can’t say it’s surprising that when Sterling… I just can’t say it’s surprising.”

April opens her mouth, closes it again. She swallows, trying to think of something to say.

“Sterling didn’t tell me,” Mrs. Wesley says quickly, “I just - well, to be frank, y’all aren’t exactly subtle. And, well, a mother knows.”

She says the last part with such pride that April has to quell down the feeling that rises from it, from all of it.

“Mrs. Wesley…” April starts.

“Oh, I think we’re on a first name basis now, hun, you’re dating my daughter.”

April grins, letting a little laugh come out. It’s the hearing it out loud that does it, she can’t quite believe the words came out of Sterling’s mother’s mouth so easily.

“Debbie then,” she says slowly, “Thank you. I - I really appreciate it.”

“I know - trust me, I know - that family can be hard. I think most people think that just because you share the same blood as someone, you share the same values, but I think we both know that sometimes the people you’re related to are the ones who can hurt you the most. So I understand if you don’t… I just want you to know that you have a family here with us, April.”

April prides herself on the fact that she tries really hard not to cry, but it’s been a very long day. So she nods at Debbie, then sniffs, then before she can stop herself, falls onto her shoulder and lets out a sob that quickly becomes another and another. Debbie’s arms wrap around her shoulders and it’s just so comforting that April can’t help but lean into it, letting herself be held by someone vaguely parental for the first time in a very long time.

She barely hears the door open behind them until there is the sound of a throat clearing and she looks up to see Sterling, looking down with concern at the odd picture of her mother and her girlfriend both teary eyed.

“Hi,” April says, quite stupidly.

“Hey,” Sterling says back, equally stupidly.

“You know what,” Debbie says, standing up, brushing off her skirt, “I’ll let you girls have a moment.”

She leans over to hug Sterling as she passes, kissing the top of her head even though she has to lean slightly up to do it. Sterling smiles at her and it makes April just a little less jealous than it would have 20 minutes ago.

“Oh and one more thing,” Debbie says when she gets to the doorway, “I am very happy for the both of you, but don’t think because you’re both girls, you can get away with that sleepover this weekend.”

“Mom!” Sterling pouts, like she’s twelve.

April, of course, finds it endearing. She also finds herself surprisingly not disappointed that what she was looking forward to for the past few days is now no longer a possibility. The fact that a parent is treating her just like anyone else who is dating her daughter, something she never dreamed would happen until she was at least in her twenties and fully self-reliant, makes a warmth spread inside of her.

“Sorry hun,” Debbie says with a wink, “now y’all two have fun. Well, not too much-”

“ _Mom_!”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

She gives a little wave before closing the door behind her and then it’s just the two of them on the porch. April feels Sterling settle down next to her and rests her head on Sterling’s shoulder on instinct. Sterling wraps an arm around her and they just sit like that for a few minutes, breathing lining up, watching the two or three stars that manage to poke through the sky so close to the city.

“Bummer about the _sleepover_ ,” Sterling finally says and April laughs.

“Alas," she says, letting herself smile, "but it’s nice that she knows though, isn’t it?”

Sterling lets out a breath. “Yeah, it’s really nice.”

“I’m sorry that I ran out of there,” April murmurs, “I’m really happy for you, I promise.”

Sterling’s hands smooths over April’s hair, then kisses her forehead. April closes her eyes.

“I just called Dr. Hernandez,” she says.

Sterling’s hand squeezes Aprils’ shoulder, holding her closer.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers.

“I’m proud of you too.” April lets out a long breath. “Though I think I’m ready to sleep for a week after today.”

“Shit, remember when you choked out Adam Michaelson in the hallway?”

April sighs.

“Simpler times, truly.”

April is used to an empty house. So she should be fine, there is no logical reason for a Friday night with her mother gone to feel different than any other of the dozens of Friday nights April has spent alone. But his house is too big, always has been for three people, then two, and now with just her, she feels almost insignificant.

She looks over at her phone, which tells her its slightly after midnight and she has no new messages. She had been constantly texting Sterling since she left the Wesley house a couple hours ago, the most recent text being an _I miss you_ that has gone unanswered. She knows that it’s just because Sterling’s probably asleep at this point, but it still add to her current feeling of being alone.

After about 30 seconds of unwarranted self-pity, April throws off her covers and heads down to the kitchen, at least figuring she might take some advantage being home alone, even if she won’t be able to take the specific advantage she had planned. She flips through her phone, finds Sterling’s Dolly Parton playlist and lets it blast over her parents’ sound system.

April’s mom has always been regimental about snacks, but her dad kept a stash of junk food on a top cupboard where no one else could reach. April hoists herself up on the counter and opens the cupboard. It’s not like he’s going to eat it now.

It’s kind of fun, actually, music far too loud, standing on the kitchen counter, exploring the remnants of Cheetos and Moonpies that have probably been sitting there for nearly a year. She finds some honey barbecue potato chips that don’t seem to be expired and pops them open as she hops down from the counter.

The chips are surprisingly satisfying, a hint of sweet within the salt and Dolly is singing about laughing and drinking and having a party and April has made part of this empty house loud and out of order, even if it’s just this corner of the kitchen, but even creating this small intentional mess is immensely satisfying.

Suddenly, Dolly stops and April’s phone loudly buzzes on the counter. She has a second of paralyzing fear that it’s her father, which happens almost every time her phone rings, but the tension immediately leaves when she sees the photo that pops up.

“Miss me too, then?” she says as she answers.

“You could say that,” Sterling says, sounding a little out of breath, “come to the front door.”

April immediately looks down the hall toward the door, breathing in sharply. By the time she exhales, she knows she’s grinning widely.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would.” She can tell Sterling’s voice is smiling too. “Now let me in.”

April makes it 75% of the way to the door before realizing that she’s not wearing pants, just a large t-shirt from a middle school production of _Jesus Christ Superstar Jr._ (where she played the titular role, of course) and her underwear. She figures it’s too late to change now.

When she opens the door, Sterling’s eyes immediately drop to her legs and April can’t help but grin, leaning on the door frame, taking in the sight of Sterling in pajamas with little polka dots on them standing outside her door at 12:30 a.m.

“Can I help you with something?” April teases, enjoying this a little too much.

Sterling grins at her, eyes ever so slowly moving from her legs up to her eyes.

“Yeah, I heard through the grapevine that your mom was out of town.”

“At this point, we should send this grapevine a handwritten thank you note.”

Sterling laughs as she steps over the threshold and closes the door behind her, before leaning down to kiss April lightly on the mouth. April closes her eyes, smiles into it.

“Is that… honey barbecue?” Sterling asks, pulling back, eyebrows furrowing.

April laughs. “Impressive.”

“I have a very particular set of skills,” Sterling says and kisses her again. April can’t believe that Sterling just got her with a bad line from a bad movie, but she doesn’t particularly care as she wraps arms around Sterling’s neck.

“What are you doing here, really?” she breathes after a few minutes.

Sterling brushes some of April’s hair behind her ear.

“I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

April melts just a little. “Sterl.”

“So I snuck out.”

April crosses her arms over her chest, fights back a smile. “You realize your mom just forbade this exact thing mere hours ago, and honestly, with what you two have been through, I definitely don’t think now is the time to disobey her.”

“Actually,” Sterling says, squaring up in a way that April recognizes intimately from years of debate, “I think now is the perfect time to disobey her. First of all, we are within the 24 hour window of me coming out, I totally have an excuse and they would definitely punish me a little less to prove they’re not homophobic. Secondly, it’s super unlikely that they even will catch me in the first place. I've set several alarms on my phone for 5 am so I can sneak back in. And Blair is set to call me if I’m not home by six, and she’s got a list of excuses ready for my parents. Thirdly-”

“Yes?” April says breathlessly, aware that she’s smiling too big, that Sterling actively listing out her well thought out reasons is affecting her on a visceral level.

“Thirdly-” Sterling steps closer, lowers her voice, “-I think that after all the bad things that have happened to both of us this year, we reserve the right to be young and dumb and in love and just for one night, not think about any consequences, just live, you know?”

April swallows. The way Sterling is looking at her right now - she never thought anyone would really look at her like that, let alone this specific person. She tries to catch her breath, tries not to focus on the way Sterling just threw out the term _in love_ like it was factual.

“And what exactly,” she finally says, voice coming out soft and hard at the same time as her heart slams in her chest, “does this _just living_ entail?”

Sterling grins, wide and bright. “Does this mean I’ve convinced you?”

“Sterling, you’d convinced me before you even came inside.”

“Well... shit.”

“But I definitely appreciated your argument.”

“How much did you appreciate it?” Sterling asks eagerly.

April knows it’s bait, but she’s never been more happy to take it, surging forward to kiss Sterling only for Sterling to meet her halfway. It’s more passion than precision, as they stumble for a moment together until April finds her back against the wall, one of Sterling’s hands on her neck, the other on her bare thigh, softly sighing into April's mouth.

April, not one to be outdone, slowly bites down on Sterling’s lip, lifts up one of her legs to draw Sterling closer, and pushes Sterling’s hoodie off her shoulders. She’s only wearing a tanktop underneath and it’s all smooth shoulders and the long arc of her neck, so April doesn’t need to think when she pushes the straps of it aside, leans down to kiss Sterling’s shoulder, her collarbone, the dip at the base of her throat.

Sterling tilts back her head eagerly, her fingers still digging into April’s thigh, her other hand tangling in April’s hair. April catches her breath against the warm skin of Sterling’s neck for a second before pulling back just enough to lift Sterling’s shirt over her head. April swallows, brain stilling for a second.

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

Sterling grins, out of breath and gorgeous. “Why would I be wearing a bra?”

“Excellent point.”

Then they’re kissing again, and April presses her palm to Sterling’s stomach, feeling Sterling shiver as April’s hand leisurely makes its way up Sterling’s torso. Sterling lets out a sharp gasp when April’s thumb brushes over her nipple and April uses the moment to flip them suddenly.

A couple framed pictures of April with various trophies rattle as she pushes Sterling’s back against the wall and she grins a little at the disturbance.

“God, you’re strong,” Sterling pants. Her mouth is open, but she’s smiling, shirtless and effervescent, chest heaving and eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” April says simply.

Sterling takes a moment to roll her eyes, before pulling April in by the collar to kiss her, warm and slow, but still purposeful in a way that makes April gasp softly when Sterling’s tongue grazes the roof of her mouth. It makes April hot all over, a surge of desperation rushing through her as her hands try to touch every untouched patch of Sterling’s skin, noting what makes Sterling gasp softly and what makes her hips tilt up from the wall with increasing speed.

The thrill of touching Sterling in this specific way courses through April's body, and she chases the high, sucking lightly, then less lightly on Sterling’s neck until Sterling is swearing up at the ceiling.

When April’s mouth finally makes its way to Sterling’s right breast, teeth ever so slightly grazing across her nipple, Sterling’s head falls back against the wall so hard that a gaudy, framed, cross stitch reading: _as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord_ falls onto the floor with a loud clatter.

“Oh fuck,” Sterling says, for multiple reasons.

April can’t help but laugh. Sterling giggles too, as they both look down on the thankfully unbroken frame on the floor, quoting Joshua at them in pastels.

“I’ve always hated that thing,” April finally says, “My mom’s embroidery phase was… unpleasant.”

“You’re welcome, then,” Sterling says smugly.

“I feel like it’s a bit too on the nose,” April says, equally smug as her hand finds her way onto Sterling’s hip, her palm pressing into the bone there.

“How so?” Sterling pants, leaning up into April’s touch.

“Well-” April lets her thumb fall beneath the waistline of Sterling’s pajamas, grinning as Sterling sucks in a breath, “this is my house.”

Her other hand slides down the smooth skin of Sterling’s stomach.

“And I have every intention-”

She tugs Sterling pants down to her ankles and kneels to get them the rest of the way off. She takes in the image of Sterling, fully naked in April’s hallway, looking down at her like she’s something to be devoured, and to be treated with utmost care.

“-To serve.”

“ _April_.”

Sterling says her name like it’s sacred and April closes her eyes for one second just to commit this moment to memory. Then she leans in and kisses the soft, untouched skin of Sterling’s thigh. Sterling fists a hand in April’s hair, and April’s smiling as she licks up to the dip of Sterling’s hip. Sterling lets out an needy whine that has April smiling into her skin.

“Patience,” she murmurs soft and low.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Sterling breathes as April runs her hand over Sterling’s other thigh, and lifts it onto her shoulder.

“That’s the idea.”

April lets her kisses wander slightly lower and Sterling’s sucks in a sharp breath.

“April, please.”

And that’s all it takes, really. April leans in, presses her tongue into the length of Sterling, to be rewarded with a sound she’s never heard before, plus the press of fingernails on her scalp, and the indescribable taste of Sterling taking over her senses.

Her nails dig into Sterling’s thigh, and she isn’t sure if she can breathe, but she honestly couldn’t care less. Not when Sterling is somehow everywhere at once, leaning into her mouth and calling out her name, so unapologetically loud and gorgeous and wanting that April can’t believe that any of this is really happening.

She watches Sterling in awe, mouth exploring where she knows Sterling likes, teasing with soft presses of her tongue that never last too long. She knows that Sterling has a tendency to come rather quickly, and while April is always immensely flattered, she wants to drag this out, wants to savor every moment of this.

She’s not a miracle worker, though, and after a few minutes, she feels Sterling’s thigh start to shake beneath her hand, feels Sterling getting wetter and wetter on her tongue.

“April I’m-” Sterling starts, and April quickly changes her pace and then Sterling is letting out a simply obscene moan, hips pushing hard and erratically against April’s mouth, until she honest-to-God collapses, sliding down the wall until she’s on April’s level.

“How,” she manages, still breathing heavily, “the hell do you do that?”

She looks disheveled and sweaty and thoroughly _fucked_ and it’s maybe the greatest thing April has seen in her life. She wants to say something suave and sexy; but something that lets Sterling know that she is the most beautiful person that April has ever seen. April has always been good with words, but in this moment, the English language can't live up to the sight before her, to the taste still on her tongue, to the way Sterling’s eyes meet hers, satisfied and affectionate all at once.

“I love you,” April responds simply.

She’s calm. She didn’t expect to be calm. But she’s confident in this, splayed on the floor of her hallway with no pants on having just had what is definitely one hundred percent certified gay sex with the girl who has been occupying her mind for over half of her life. Of course she’s in love.

Sterling’s eyes go wide and then she’s kissing April suddenly, hands cupping her face, inhaling sharply and April recalls the first time Sterling kissed her, just like this, impulsive and caring and turning April’s world upside down.

Only back then, April hadn’t thought it was real; couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept that Sterling Wesley had chosen her of all people. She had gone home that night, still not believing it had happened, that she would wake up and it would just be one of her dreams filled with things she can’t have. She had stopped in this very hallway, pressed her fingers to her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, hope blooming in her chest, but still unable to stop repeating _this isn’t real_.

Now though, when Sterling kisses her with the same tender desperation she had all those months ago, April has complete and utter confidence in how real this is.

“I love you,” Sterling whispers into her mouth.

“I know.”

By the time Sterling’s second alarm goes off, they’re almost asleep. April’s head rests of Sterling’s chest and can feel it moving with each breath she takes. Her arm tightens around April when her phone loudly blares.

“Sterl,” April whispers, “you gotta go.”

Sterling smiles a sleepy smile at her. “Oh I see how it is, you just kick me to the curb huh? Use ‘em and lose ‘em I see.”

“You dork,” April says, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “but, seriously, if you get grounded that means that there will be much less of, this and we can't have that, can we?”

“Okay, I’m up!”

They’re both giggling a little as they make their way downstairs. April notices the destruction as she passes, a little bowl of potpourri that had been tipped over when Sterling pressed her into an end table; the rug in the living room that had folded over on itself when April hadn’t been able to wait to get Sterling on her back; and the magnum opus of her _Jesus Christ Superstar Jr_. shirt draped over a lamp.

“This was a fun show,” Sterling says, picking up the shirt and pulling it over her head, “Blair’s Judas was unmatched.”

“She had me crucified,” April argues playfully.

“It’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“Spoken like a true chorus member.”

“Okay, rude, I was technically an apostle,” Sterling says, but she’s grinning as she pulls on her pajamas again, scrambling for her car keys from where they’d fallen out of her sweatshirt last night.

April just watches her, unable to do anything else, brain hazy from the image of Sterling wearing her shirt, as well as the lack of sleep and, honestly, quite strenuous physical activity.

"I wish I didn’t have to go," Sterling says once she's dressed.

“Same,” April says, “but alas, you must.”

"You're the only person I know who regularly uses the word 'alas.' Very underrated word. God, I remember getting so mad how you always got a perfect hundred on vocab tests, but here I am, kind of obsessed with it. With you."

April smiles wide and unburdened, before kissing Sterling, quick and breathless. Then she shoves her toward the door.

"You're stalling."

“Fine,” Sterling says, grinning, “but I’ll see you tomorrow? Well, today actually. Blair says she wants to teach you how to punch people and you know you always have an open invite to _Drag Race._

April smiles, warmth spreading in her chest. “Maybe with less emotional revelations this time."

“Hey, you never know. Us Wesleys are unpredictable.”

As if to prove her point, she grabs April by the waist, pulling her closer until April can feel Sterling’s breath on her face. April gasps a little. Sterling grins and April can’t not look at her stupid, perfect mouth.

Then, quite suddenly, Sterling lets her go and opens up the door.

“K, bye!” she says with a jaunty wave.

April rolls her eyes, but smiles too big, too fond, too enamored with everything about the person in front of her.

“I hate you,” she says.

“I love you,” Sterling responds.

April can’t stop smiling. Even when she watches Sterling practically skip down her driveway like she’s in a Disney movie or something. Even when she goes to straighten the rug, the cross stitch, the potpourri. Even when she gets back into bed after being awake for almost 24 hours, but still can’t sleep.

Her phone buzzes with a text from Sterling, and April opens it to see a _got home unscathed_ selfie of Sterling giving a thumbs up with an extremely sleepy and disgruntled Blair.

April grins to herself, settles back in the bed, remembering Sterling’s body there mere minutes ago as she types out a reply, then feels the small elation of getting one immediately back. Her eyes start to droop but she forces them open, looking at her phone.

She’s at that place where she's not quite asleep, but her thoughts get a little hazy and uncontrolled. She lets herself imagine what it would be like if she talked to herself at age 12, told her she wouldn’t want to sleep because she didn’t want to stop talking to the girl that she’s in love with, who miraculously feels the same way about her, after approximately four hours having having unashamed joyous lesbian sex.

Well, maybe she shouldn’t tell her twelve-year-old self about all the sex, but she _has_ always been mature for her age. April smiles to herself, lets her grip slowly lighten on her phone, content in the knowledge that it will still be there when she wakes up; that Sterling will be on the other end; that she will keep exceeding any hopes that her younger self would have had of her.

Her eyes drift close as her phone buzzes comfortingly in her palm, and for once, her house doesn’t feel so empty.


End file.
